


Spiral

by yeaka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 16:46:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4487127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus wakes to Severus’ usual buried affection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spiral

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this.
> 
> A/N: This isn’t properly British.

He isn’t in a dream: reality just comes crumbling back to him. There’s a sharp pain in his backside, his neck sore from the way it’s turned, cheek buried in his pillow. He shifts his arms experimentally, eyes blinking open but quickly shutting again—the morning light’s streaming in through his curtains. He tries to push up on his elbows, but there’s a heavy weight atop him, and he’s shoved back down. He grunts, hitting the pillow, and turns to glance groggily over his shoulder, Severus deliberately not meeting his eye.

Severus has slid inside him. There’s obviously been preparation; Remus can feel the slickness, the looseness in his muscles; he’s been stretched and coaxed, though there’s always still some semblance of pain—even after everything, Remus’ body takes to pain too easily. But it’s also use to rough treatment. He accepts it, grumbling out some broken form of, “ _Good morning._ ”

Severus doesn’t answer. He opens his mouth around Remus’ ear, biting at the ends, tugging a bit. His hands claw down Remus’ sides, dig into Remus’ bony hips, trying to leave bruises overtop of the scars. They didn’t fall asleep together. Severus must’ve slipped into his room, deliberately spelling open the lock, even though Remus has given him the key. He probably thinks he’s being cruel. He’s harsh, hard, thrusting into Remus with sharp, staccato thrusts, but Remus just mewls and squirms against it. He enjoys the intimacy. Always does. Severus’ touch pleases him whether Severus likes and understands it or not. It’s been too long. Half the reason Remus came back to Hogwarts was for a shot at _this_ , and he succeeded. 

Severus pretends it’s just sex. He fucks like he doesn’t care, though he’s tinged with inexperience—he was never as free as Remus was when they were younger, nor as desperate when older. Maybe he hasn’t had anyone else in all the years between. Twice, he pulls out too far and has to pause to guide himself back in, during which Remus just grunts and tries to hold himself open. He doesn’t offer encouragement; it’ll just make Severus complain. Sometimes they work best in silence, conveying, maybe, some unsaid understanding. 

Severus hits his prostate sometimes. It’s probably not deliberate, but it doesn’t matter—it makes Remus shiver and keen, pushing back up—he’s too tired to get properly hard, but intellectually, he _wants_ Severus. He likes the feeling of one of Severus’ thin arms slipping under him, long, calloused fingers splaying against his chest. He sleeps naked because otherwise the night sweats just glue his clothes to his body. Severus has stripped too, revealing more intentions. They’re all hot, shuddering skin, sticky with sweat and old wounds. Severus’ greasy hair tumbles over his shoulder, Severus tilting to bite at Remus’ neck. At least, it starts as bites. First rigid, large, trying for teeth-shaped grooves, then little, almost teasing nips, then, inevitably, _kisses_ , that Remus leans into and keens for. Severus’ thrusts have become deep and lasting. Remus has to fight himself to keep his arms useless at his sides. He wants to hold Severus’ arm over him and reach back to squeeze Severus’ taut rear, but it isn’t worth scaring off his skittish lover, so he simply lies still and lets Severus fumble through what he thinks he wants. 

There are times when Remus is sure that he can feel Severus wanting him, beyond just the veil of sex and revenge. He always wishes he could take away that bitterness and pain, and they could just enjoy each other, the way they do in the dead of night sometimes, when Remus manages to chip away enough for Severus to be honest and vulnerable. But it isn’t often, and he can always see the fear in Severus’ eyes afterwards. They’re getting closer in small, timid baby-steps. Maybe by the end of the semester, they’ll be able to make gentle, languid love and whisper the endearments they both know they feel. 

More likely, they’ll just be able to look at each other across the staff table without Severus twisting into a sneer. 

Severus lasts for an impressively long time. He used to come as soon as he entered Remus’ body, and Remus would take it and wish for _more_ , but now Severus seems to go on and on. Maybe it’s just that Remus is _tired_ —always is, but it’s close to the full moon and he’s barely woken up. When his prostate’s hit, his cock will stir, but Severus doesn’t touch it and Remus doesn’t bother, and it goes back down between. Severus pushes and grinds him into the mattress, but it’s too soft for any real friction. Softer than the bed he slept on before this. He used to think of showing up on Severus’ doorstep, slipping his way into Severus’ bed and home, dark and depressing as it is, but somehow, this was easier. It seems silly for them to have two separate beds. He wouldn’t mind being woken up like this every morning, except maybe for two or three days right after the moon. Severus wouldn’t take him then. Severus is always very careful to give him the potion and terrified of him after. Little him. It almost makes him laugh. He feels so small and broken most days, but Severus never forgets what happened way back then. He pretends it’s why he fucks Remus now. 

It isn’t. His hands become less and less violent as he goes. He stops clawing, stops curling in his nails, spreads along Remus’ flesh instead, tracing his frail sides and his too-hollow ribs, wrapping around, _holding_ him: an embrace, a hug. Warm, if not really soft. This is why Remus enjoys these things beyond the sexual quotient. Severus clings to him and rocks their hips together, and Remus rewards him by clenching down. Severus lets out a raw hiss, and Remus does it again, sucking at his lover’s cock with a smile on his face. Severus nuzzles into his hair, kissing his neck, his shoulder, his cheek harder. Remus finally mutters, “ _Severus_ :” maybe a lewd moan.

Severus has a strangled hitch of breath and comes. There’s no cry, but the grip tightens, threatening to crush the air out of Remus’ lungs. Severus buries himself inside and pumps Remus full: another sensation that Remus oddly enjoys. 

Severus collapses after, breathing hard and reeking of sex, sweaty and satiated and strangely heavy for how thin he is. Remus breathes shallowly and doesn’t protest, but he does whine when Severus’ cock slips out of him. It leaves him gaping open and dribbling, but Severus, of course, pays no attention.

Severus lies there for a while, crushing Remus down, then rolls off. He doesn’t look at Remus, or at least, not directly. The fact that he lied down at all says it all. Dizzily, Remus looks back, groping for his blanket, and draws it up when he finds it, covering them both. It’s colder than Severus was.

Remus rolls to Severus’ side, curling around him. In a way, it’s a trap to hold him down. In another, it’s just Remus’ want to cuddle. Severus doesn’t pull away, betraying his own feelings. 

Still tired and now spent, Remus falls slowly back to sleep, pleased that Severus stays.


End file.
